Chains
by TheRandomScribbler
Summary: A dark secret from Legolas's past threatens to be revealed when Pippin asks a seemingly innocent question. But why won't anyone talk about the first meeting of Aragorn and Legolas? And why does Legolas have that black arrow in his quiver?
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: A dark secret from Legolas's past threatens to be revealed when Pippin asks a seemingly innocent question. And why does Legolas have that black arrow in his quiver? Only time will tell..._

_Rating: This chapter is only K, but it's going to go up_

_Disclaimer: Darn, darn, darn…I still don't own them. And never will. El crappo. _

_Final notes: This isn't slash. That's all I have to say. This fic focuses on the friendship of Legolas and Aragorn (as well as a few other things), but a friendship it is and a friendship it will remain._

_Anything in is Elvish, and is not translated into the actual language either because 1)I couldn't find the right words or 2) I was too lazy. Take your pick._

_A huge, huge thanks to my beta, seeing-spots! Go check out her stories. I couldn't have done it without you! She especially helped me with the Elvish , for which I am eternally grateful!_

**CHAINS**

It had been a long day and Peregrin Took—Pippin, to his friends—was tired. Exhausted, actually, although there wasn't usually a time when he wasn't tired these days. This Journey had really taken a lot out of him. He spent less and less time laughing and joking with his friend and cousin Merry and more time worrying about keeping up with the rest of the Fellowship, or worrying about Frodo, or wondering if his strength would keep up until the next resting point.

He was getting bored, too. Not that he'd every say this out loud, since Gandalf's most likely response to this would be, "You did not come on this journey for the purpose of entertainment, Peregrin Took! If you are bored find a mirror and amuse yourself with your own face!"

He _hadn't _come on this adventure seeking entertainment, of course, and he was very grateful for all the rest they were getting now—Legolas had reported a lone orc that morning, and thought it might have been a scout, and though he'd killed it Gandalf had thought it best to lie low for a while. But after a while it just seemed all the trees started to look the same, and all the rocks started to just sort of blend into one another. The sky nearly always looked the same, either blue or grey, and it didn't even come in different shades of blue or grey. Naturally, he couldn't say any of this, either, as saying the trees were boring would insult Legolas, saying the rocks were boring would insult Gimli, and asking for the sky to be a different color was like wanting Bill the Pony to turn purple.

Well, as his mother would have told him, no use sitting around waiting for someone to make him less bored. He had to go and _do_ something about it. Sure, he couldn't really _go_ anywhere, but when he was bored there was always _something _he could do about it. That was a fact.

He went to complain to Merry, who was lazily smoking his pipe and resting against the foot of a large oak tree. He scowled at Pippin as the Took made his way over to him, seeming to sense his cousin's mission. This was nearly always his reaction to Pippin bothering him, but this hadn't ever deterred Pippin in the past, so plowed right on. Merry was little more sympathetic than Gandalf would have been.

"What exactly do you expect me to do about it?" he asked irritably when Pippin told him in a hushed whisper that he was bored.

"I dunno," admitted Pippin, who hadn't really thought of that and was taken aback. "You can always think of something for me to do though, so I thought I'd ask you."

Merry sighed exasperatedly. "You can't always expect me to get you un-bored, Pip," he said.

"But isn't there anything?" asked Pippin hopefully.

Merry sighed again. "Look, Pippin. Here's an idea. Why don't you go ask someone to tell you stories? You loved to hear old Bilbo talk about trolls and caves and such—I bet Boromir has loads of stories about stuff like that, and he'd be happy to tell you about them."

But Pippin's interest was now diverted to watching Legolas and Aragorn speaking quietly in Elvish. Though he couldn't understand the words, they appeared to be arguing. They did this often, so often that Pippin was sure they weren't really mad at each other at all and just did it because they felt like it.

"Fine, then," began Merry irritably. "You beg me for something to do and then don't even—"

"No, no, I do," Pippin assured him. "But I wonder…Strider seems to know Legolas awfully well…I bet…I wonder how long they've been friends? I bet they have stories."

"Why don't you go ask them, then?" said Merry, still nettled. He didn't really think Pippin would do it, and his mouth curved into a sort of smirk as he took another puff on his pipe.

"I will," said Pippin, not seeming to notice. Getting up, he boldly made his way over to where Elf and Ranger stood talking.

Aragorn stopped abruptly and looked at Pippin, not unkindly, and asked, "What can I do for you, Pippin?"

Suddenly realizing that he had no idea how to voice his request, Pippin looked at the ground, his cheeks growing warm, and stuttered, "Uh…well…I mean… I just wondered … but you're probably too busy though…"

Over on the side Merry was still smirking, smoke drifting lazily from his mouth, knowing Pippin was making a fool of himself.

Legolas cocked his head curiously to the side and said softly, "Please make your request, Master Hobbit, and trust that we will not think ill of you should it be trivial."

Maybe it was the fact that Legolas rarely spoke to anyone except Aragorn and he had now just spoken to Pippin, or the fact that he wasn't seeming to simply be humoring Pippin, or the fact that Aragorn now looked mildly interested too, but something made Pippin suddenly bold, and he asked outright, "I was wondering if either of you had any stories. You know, from your adventures together. Like how you started being friends. And like, what you did once you became friends."

Simultaneously the Elf and Man glanced at each other, before turning aside to speak quietly with one another. The look they gave each other scared him; had he asked something bad? Pippin turned to look at his fellow hobbits, who of course were by now all looking at him. Merry was no longer smirking, he was now glaring at him, giving him a half-amazed I-can't-believe-you-actually-did-it, half annoyed for bothering them look. Sam was trying to look disapproving as well, but he loved stories as much as Pippin, and anyone could tell he was hoping one of the two would talk. Frodo merely looked tired as usual and Pippin thought a good story might cheer him up a bit.

"_I perian anira pennas-ista,_" Legolas murmured, words Pippin didn't understand. The Elf met his friend's eyes and something strange passed between them, something that none but perhaps Gandalf could fathom, a question perhaps, or even a warning.

Aragorn shook his head slightly. _"Ithurini an-lin," _he said. _"Peregrin maquentë nat avayárima." _

_He knows not _countered Legolas. _He wants only a story—'tis nothing we have not requested in the past. He knows not. Surely it seems a small thing, to ask how such a great friendship as I believe we have has come to pass. And to request a tale is to request knowledge; he is to be commended for that. _

_Were I you I should feel well telling him not of our first meeting _Aragorn said. _I know not how they will react. Neither need they to learn of the…unfavorable circumstances under which we met. Not yet. _

Legolas nodded; a shadow crossed his face as unwanted memories flooded back. _I feel likewise. None but Mithrandir know of these things and it would be better if they were left untold for the time being. I am unwilling to for this knowledge to impart from me, or anyone else. _

_I respect that; it is understandable that you wish not for them to know. _

"What're they saying?" Pippin hissed at Frodo, who was seated nearby, resting with his eyes closed. He looked as though he were asleep. However, Pippin had known Frodo long enough to tell when he was actually asleep, and when he was just resting. Despite Frodo's obvious efforts to look asleep, Pippin wasn't fooled, and anyway, this was important. "Are they talking about me? Are they mad at me? Do they say—"

"They say a nosy Took with large ears asks too many questions," said Merry crossly. Pippin stuck his tongue out at his cousin and looked pleadingly at Frodo, who opened his eyes, sighed and gave in.

"Legolas commends you for wanting to hear a story, and thinks you should get it. But—" Frodo frowned. This made no sense. _What things? What are they talking about?_

"But what?" asked Pippin anxiously

"'Unfavorable circumstances'?" murmured Frodo. He knew that since the two had switched to Elvish he probably wasn't even supposed to know what they were talking about. He hadn't heard much, but what heard made him wonder. What did Legolas mean by his insinuations? And why, if he had understood correctly, did Aragorn not want them to know of his first meeting with Legolas? The two had always been friends, as far as Gandalf had ever disclosed. Had one of them been in connection with dark powers at some point?

"What? What did they say?" Pippin demanded impatiently.

"I don't understand," said Frodo, still talking to himself. "Gandalf knows but he is the only one…" He frowned, cocked his head to the side, thinking. "I suppose if it were pertinent to this mission they would tell us…"

"Is something wrong?" Pippin asked desperately. "If it's a big deal it doesn't really matter—tell them I'm not that bored—"

"…although they might not want to worry us, I suppose that could be why…but…no, if it were really important they would say something…no, I suppose it is nothing at all," Frodo finished absently, glad he'd decided on that.

"FRODO!" Pippin finally yelled, attracting the attention of everyone, including Aragorn and Legolas, who broke out of Elvish and came to speak with the hobbits.

"Legolas has consented to give you a few tales of our adventures together," Aragorn said, and left it at that. Neither of them gave any sign that anything ill had been said. Frodo wondered if he hadn't mistaken their words at all; after all, his Elvish was a bit rusty. "But let me warn you that most are not humorous and are not likely to make you laugh. However, they will keep one of us entertained during this wait, so that one will not succumb to utter boredom." There was a twinkle in Aragorn'seyes, and everyone looked at Pippin, who suddenly became very interested in examining his fingernails.

"Are they exciting tales, Mr. Strider?" Sam asked eagerly, abandoning all pretense.

Aragorn nodded gravely. "To some they would be exciting…a hobbit no doubt will find those escapades thrilling. I think you will find our adventures up to Bilbo's standards."

"Well, do it quietly, so the rest of us don't have to listen to you, Elf," grumbled Gimli, who didn't sound at all keen on having Legolas speak for long periods of time. Legolas ignored him.

"It seems a story would be good distraction to these evil times," Boromir spoke up. Legolas looked at Aragorn. The Ranger smiled slightly and gestured to the rest of the Fellowship.

"You have an eager audience, mellon nin."

"Where to start…?" Legolas murmured.

He glanced again at Aragorn, who replied, "Why not the tale of our first experience with orcs, wargs and giant spiders? That would make for a good start."

"Like the kind of spiders Bilbo met?" inquired Frodo, also interested by this point.

"Exactly that kind, of Mirkwood Forest," replied Legolas. "This tale takes place…well, I don't remember exactly when, but I suppose Aragorn must have been around thirty and I was…about that same age by your standards. We were, for once, minding our own business—" Aragorn rolled his eyes "—and we were attacked by spiders which had been tainted by the evil which now envelops much of Middle-Earth. And not only were these spiders pure evil, they had orders from an unknown Master and were aided by Wargs and Orcs…And to make our problems worse they were carrying a kind of toxin, which, if ingested, would cause the victim to fall into a deep sleep from which they would never awaken unless the anitdote was administered within forty-eight hours. Well, Aragorn and I were outnumbered eight to one…"

And so began the storytelling.

**TBC…**

**Next chapter: Legolas's Story!**

**Please R&R if you enjoyed the first chapter!**

_I perian anira pennas-ista—_The halfling wishes to know our history

_Ithurini an-lin—_The secrets are yours

_Peregrin maquentë nat avayárima—_Peregrin asked a thing which ought not be related to


	2. Chapter 2

**See previous for summary, disclaimer etc.**

**A big cheer to my reviews and especially to seeing-spots, my beta! Check out her stories!**

It was their first adventure together. Each was, unknown to the other, slightly wary of his companion's skills.

The Man knew of the Elf's skills in battle—he was, after all, a prince, son of a great king, who had long defended his father's kingdom from harm. But though he knew this, he had never seen the Elf fight, and could not help being a little apprehensive. He had seen his father and brothers fight, but had little experience with Elves beyond those of Rivendell, and did not know much about their fighting techniques.

The Elf, likewise, was somewhat curious to see how his friend would react in battle.

He hadn't had much experience fighting with Men—normally they were on opposite sides trying to kill each other, not work together. He kept his face expressionless as his thoughts wandered to the fact that the work of the Men he'd seen had not been impressive. The only time he had been bested in battle by them was when they had outnumbered him 10-1, and he had had no chance.

-----

Legolas paused suddenly in his narration and coughed slightly, aware of the eyes watching him. _I will make no mention of this time,_ he thought to himelf. _Maybe later…much later… though I am loathe to let them learn of it._

Smiling apologetically, he explained that he had had something caught in his throat, and this was the reason for his cough. He then continued on as though nothing was the matter.

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The human had been trained by the Elves of Rivendell, who excelled in swordplay and archery—though their archery skills could not match those of the Mirkwood ElvesFurthermore his brothers were Elladan and Elrohir, the famed twinsons of Elrond, skilled warriors in their own right, and thus he was likely more than adequate in battle, but still, Legolas was eager to see how the Ranger would do.

Looking back, it was probably one of the more stupid things they'd done, specifically seeking a large band of orcs that had been raiding some of the villages in the south, and thinking that the two of them alone could take them on. Naturally, neither thought it was a foolish undertaking. But then again, few people used the term 'LegolasandAragorn) in the same sentence as 'smart' or 'wise' or 'think'. In fact, over the years of their friendship, 'LegolasandAragorn' gradually became almost synonymous with the term 'ElladanandElrohir', otherwise known as 'chaos-causing, prank-playing, always-guilty, innocent-wide-eyed sons of Elrond', so named by a certain Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell.

At any rate, they were traveling through Mirkwood towards one of the southern villages where the orcs were rumored to have surfaced last. They were planning an ambush, to strike the orcs from the shadows and destroy them all at one shot so there would be little danger of injury to themselves.

Little did they know that the orcs would find them first.

The two were walking through the dark shaded woods, conversing casually, when Legolas stopped abruptly and peered cautiously around through suddenly-narrowed eyes. Aragorn looked at him curiously.

"_Man cenich?" _he asked, looking around likewise and trying to determine what the Elf was looking at.

"_Im…Im ind…" _Legolas frowned. "I don't know…I thought…nay, I must be mistaken."

"What?" said Aragorn urgently, for Legolas was an Elf and therefore it was very unlikely that he'd imagined or mistaken anything if he thought he saw something.

"It…it looked like…a warg, but it can't have been…" Legolas's eyes narrowed even further as he spotted several shadowy, fleeting figures in the woods surrounding them.. "Estel…we are being tracked! _Ai! _Get down, Aragorn! A long black arrow soared out from the trees just as Aragorn ducked and embedded itself firmly in a large oak directly where Aragorn had been standing seconds before._ "Yr—_" Legolas's cry was cut off by a large orc materializing from the woods and throwing itself onto him. He quickly killed it with a slash across the throat from his knives. He had no time to think, for a split second later another one was attacking him. He killed it as well, but as quickly as it had died another had taken its place. They were everywhere.

Within seconds, it had turned into a full ambush.

Aragorn had drawn his sword and was hacking orcs to pieces. Legolas took to the trees. He chose a spot from which he could act as a sniper, loosing a rain of deadly arrows on the orcs below.He carefully aimed his bow before releasing his arrow. Time after time again he nocked an arrow, aimed and fired.

The battle seemed to be going well; the orcs were becoming fewer and fewer, and those left seemed to fight with less vigor. Man and Elf remained uninjured, save for a few bruises and scrapes which would heal quickly enough; both figured the fight would be over soon enough.

But they were wrong.

Legolas had just fired his last arrow at a particularly large orc and killed it, and he was preparing to leap from his position in the tree to assist Aragorn in finishing the orcs off with his white knives, when he heard a venomous hiss from behind him.

He spun around, and to his horror, found six of the largest giant spiders he'd ever seen in his life advancing on him. They were easily twice his height and their legs extended like grossly elongated shadows exaggerated by the light.

_"Lhingril!" _He shouted a warning to Aragorn, who was still busy fighting orcs. The human looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of the spiders, and nodded.

Legolas drew his knives and made to leap down from the tree, but before he could the smallest spider darted forward and tried to stab one of its fatal pincers into Legolas's gut. The elf reacted with more speed than any human could have, slicing into the hair-covered flesh that was one of the spider's legs. The thing squealed in pain and drew back for a second but did not give up. It came steadily forward to meet him, and as it swung another long, hairy leg at him Legolas was forced to abandon his original plan to jump from the trees and instead leap higher into them to avoid the strong, stinging legs of the spider all aiming to bring him down. To jump would have left him wide open for several seconds; it was too risky.

Two other spiders joined the first and they made a loose circle under the climbing elf. They could climb almost as well as he could.

Grmacing, Legolas looked down at his pursuers and realized it might have been worth the risk to jump. He was nearly to the point where he could climb no further, and then it would not be very easy to fight and maintain his balance at the same time, especially since he was up against three spiders. And surely Aragorn could not be doing well against three spiders of his own, as well as the rest of the orcs.

His heart sank as he realized they were going to have to flee the scene. If there was one thing Legolas hated, it was cowardice. But given the circumstances, he knew there would be no way they would get out of there alive unless they left now.

_Aragorn _he called, his voice heavy with irritation at himself and with the whole situation. _Aragorn, we must flee—we cannot fight them all. _

Silence was his only answer, except for the clicking and hising of the spiders in hot pursuit of their quarry. Legolas's heart nearly stopped as he realized—he could no longer hear the clanging of Aragorn's sword, nor the man's shouts of exhaustion. Everything was eerily quiet.

"Aragorn!" he shouted, and darted faster than the eye could see to his own left, then down, hoping to outmaneuver the spiders and confuse them into thinking he was still up high in the boughs.

No such luck. His breath caught in his throat as he reached the lower boughs and saw his human friend lying motionless on the ground, a large gash in his arm and across his face and there was a wicked arrow sticking out from his shoulder. Blood pooled around his body and spattered the trees around him with red. But he was not dead. Legolas sighed quietly with relief. An orc stood over the Ranger, leering at his unconscious form. Legolas crept quietly to another tree directly above the orcs, so he would be able to listen to their plans and watch them. He knew that as long as he kept silent and still they would be unable to detect him.

"Did you kill him, Ugbúz?" he grunted.

"Nah, he ain't dead—knocked out cold but alive as you and me," the first, Ugbúz replied. His face split into a grotesque grin. "These Rangers are always fun to play with, real strong, real fun to break—see to it that he's tied up proper so we can ask him some questions and have some fun with him later. When you're done tyin' him get him onto Ugone, and make sure he gets taken back to camp.."

_Ugone?_ Legolas wondered, even as his nose wrinkled in disgust of what the orcs were planning. Who—or what—was Ugone?

"Aye," the first grunted, and, producing some rope, yanked Aragorn into a half-sitting position and bound his hands firmly behind his back. Then, hoisting him over his shoulder, he took him over to one of the giant spiders, who, Legolas noted, was strangely enough standing quite still, and tied him to the spider's back.

_What? _Legolas thought with astonishment. _Can the spiders be working for these orcs? Can they be…in league with one another? But how is that possible? _For the spiders were rogues. They depended on themselves and no one else for survival. If they were working with the orcs that could only mean bad news for the inhabitants of Mirkwood..

So preoccupied was he in these musings that he failed to notice that his three pursuers had caught up with him.

Seconds later, a sharp pincer had stabbed itself into Legolas's thigh. He felt paralyzing numbness spreading rapidly all over his body. His movements seemed slow and sluggish.Even as he turned to fight he knew he would lose. He clumsily held up a hand containing a knife and made a pathetic swipe at the spider. It seemed to laugh at him as it dodged the slow movement easily. He tipsily took a step toward the spider, but his feet felt so heavy…so heavy…he stumbled. The spider took this opportunity to stab him again and he gave the softest of moans at the pain.

His shocked brain screamed at him to get a grip and start defending himself, but his fingers refused, too weak to even hold his knives, much less use them. They slipped through his fingers like butter. His legs would no longer support him. As he realized he was falling he made a valiant effort at leaping to another tree branch, but his useless fingers merely brushed the edge of a branch. They would not even curl around the branch, and certainly did not have enough strength to hold him there or to pull himself up. This was bad.

He fell to the ground, unable to move, and landed with a soft _thump_ close to where Aragorn formerly lay.

Both orcs, Ugbúz and Lux, started at the noise. Then Ugbúz grinned just like he had earlier. "Well, well, well, looks like our Ranger had a friend along with 'im! And a fine Elven friend at that…but 'e can't move, can 'e? Looks like one of Ugone's fellows got him…poor lad…"

Both laughed. "Well," yawned Ugbúz. "I guess we'll just have to take him along with us, then, won't we? Two to play with…well, better put him to sleep, Lux, don't want him causin' no trouble when the first stage wears off."

First stage? Legolas's soggy brain came alive at this statement. What first stage? The spiders were toxic, certainly, but there was no 'first stage', there were no 'stages' at all, there was merely the paralyzing effect and after that wore off there was fatigue but nothing more. He eyed the orc warily as the thing came closer to him, bearing a rag soaked in something that smelled suspiciously good.

Even as the rag was pressed to his nose and mouth, and even as he realized it was some sort of sleeping potion and he ought to fight, a little tiny part of him welcomed the sleep that overtook him, a small part of him waved hello to the overwhelming darkness which consumed him, and a sudden void in his mind whispered that now he was safe…

He could not sense that his hands were being bounds tightly behind his back, he didn't know that he was being thrown over and tied roughly to the hairy back of a gigantic spider, he could not comprehend the evil laughs of the orcs around him, and maybe all this was a good thing, for this way neither he could not fear threats of whip, flame and sword…the situation certainly looked hopeless.

Legolas stopped. "I suppose from that point on it is a relatively boring story," he said, carefully taking note of the seven pairs of eyes on him. Gandalf, who knew every detail of every exploit the pair had ever experienced, whether failed or not, did not appear to be listening closely. Aragorn, Legolas was sure, was only listening to ensure that the Elf got all the details right, and that there were no added bits such as '…lazy human was unconscious for the whole thing' and such. All four hobbits were listening raptly, and Pippin gave a start when Legolas spoke these words, for apparently he had quite forgotten the story had passed and there were no orcs present now. Even Boromir looked interested, as did Gimli, despite his credible desperate attempts to look indifferent.

"But what happens next?" demanded Merry.

"Did you get away?" Pippin asked breathlessly, his eyes wide. Sam and Merry rolled their eyes, and Merry gave him a resounding cuff on the back of the head.

"'Course they did, are you brainless? Standing right here, aren't they?"

Pippin blushed. "What I meant was—I mean—"

"I think Pippin wants to know exactly how you escaped," Frodo said, quickly rescuing the Took, who shot him a grateful look, and couldn't help adding, "And what happened? I mean, when they took you to their camp."

Legolas shrugged with feigned indifference. "I suppose they tortured us. Isn't that how it went, Estel?"

Aragorn restrained himself from rolling his eyes, as he knew the Elf had no more forgotten what had happened than he had forgotten his own name.

He sighed, and humored the Elf with an answer. "Yes, _tithen ernil_, that's how it went. And I suppose you must tell them about the escape now, too, I think that was probably the most interesting part of the whole thing."

Legolas glared at the Ranger at the use of the hated nickname—Princeling—before 'considering' it. "I guess I could…if they'd like me to…"

"Tell us!" said Pippin anxiously. "Please," he added.

"Yes, I'd really like to hear it, if it's not too much trouble," said Merry hopefully.

Legolas stretched his long legs before continuing. "Well, then…our escape involved a hairpin and a good deal of creativity…" _But that came **after **the torture,_he added darkly to himself.

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**Okay, okay, you know the routine—if you like it, please review. If not, feel free to leave me constructive criticism, I'll take anything that makes this fic better!**

_Man cenich—_What do you see?

_Im…Im ind—_I…I don't…

_Lhingril—_Spiders

_Tithen ernil—_Princeling


	3. Chapter 3

**A huge thanks to my reviewers! I emailed replies to those I could and some I could not get a hold of and I will reply to in the next chapter! Those who leave email addresses will get a thank-you every two or so chapters.**

**Another thanks to my beta, seeing-spots.**

**-----3-----**

Legolas awoke several hours after his capture. His head was still spinning madly, and he could barely remember what had just happened.

He was lying on his side in a musty, dark, dirty tent. His hands were bound very firmly behind his back; when he tried to move his fingers, he could not. Far different were they than before, for now instead of feeling jelly-like and watery, they were stiff and unbending. He supposed the circulation must have been cut off for so many hours that his fingers had lost feeling.

A sharp pain in his side reminded him that unfortunately, he did have feeling in the rest of his body, and now the spider sting had started to ache and give him pain.

He tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea swept over him. Fire raced up and down his entire body as the spider wound protested. He groaned.

That was strange, Legolas thought, lying quickly back down and closing his eyes. Spider bites were not supposed to give one nausea. Nor did they usually give so much pain upon movement. He had been stung before and the pain had always been relatively minor, although then again the spider that had gotten him had indeed been one of the largest he'd ever seen.

_I must make mention of this to Father when I get back,_ he though woozily as nausea threatened to overtake him again. _Aragorn and I will have quite a report to—Aragorn!_

He had almost forgotten about the Man. He almost sat up again before remembering that this was a bad idea. His mind raced. Where could the human be? He twisted around to see if he had somehow missed the other in the tent, but he found he was quite alone.

He had probably been taken to another tent. The orcs had probably feared to put them together, in case they were allies, and thus they were separated.

He only hoped that the orcs had not actually carried out their 'fun' yet, and that he and Aragorn would be able to escape before they did. It would be difficult enough to escápé (kind of like 'escape') as it was without added injury. He knew entirely too well the reputation of the orcs, however, and with a mental sigh figured he was probably being optimistic if he thought that they would get out unscathed. Still, it did no harm to at least try. His first goal would be to find Aragorn and make sure the human was unharmed, or at least well enough to walk on his own. Unfortunately, this would involve getting out of his own bonds before even attempting to plan an escape and rescue, and, try as he might he could not get to loosen in the least. In fact, whenever he moved at all a wave of dizziness threatened to blind him, and this proved to be more than irritating, as he could not even twist around without spots flashing in front of his eyes. Any motion at all made the world spin and gave him a momentary headache that he thought ought to be eligible for some kind of hall of fame.

Contemplating this problem, he rolled painfully onto one side, away from the door. Shutting his eyes tightly, he failed to notice the door being opened and two orcs stepping in until a sharp boot dug itself into his back.

"Wake up, you," grunted the orc, who Legolas recognized upon turning over as Lux.

Legolas didn't respond, waiting to see what would happen, and the orc reached down and roughly grabbed Legolas's shoulder, pulling him up. The elf's lip curled in disgust, and his first thought was to tell the orc off for touching him, but as he opened his mouth to speak the words, the only thing that came out was, "Uhhhhh…" as the world spun out of control once again. Hating himself for the weakness, he did his very best to stand upright unaided, but succeeded only in a wobbly position, leaning heavily against a support beam of the tent. He would have fallen entirely if Lux's strong grasp around his upper arm had not held him so firmly in place.

"Wos' the matter with you?" demanded Lux, looking puzzled. "You ain't been hurt too bad yet…speak up!" He slapped Legolas hard across the face. The elf stumbled backward, his vision blurring once again, and he fell onto the floor. He made a valiant effort at getting up, but the nausea returned and he felt a horrible tug at his stomach, the overwhelming urge to vomit. He clamped his lips firmly shut, determined that, even if the orcs had to see him in this terribly undignified fashion, at least he could keep from throwing up his breakfast in front of them. He closed his eyes. All he really needed was to rest…he felt tremors begin to run through his body as his stomach demanded to be emptied but his mind refused.

"Wos' with 'im?" Lux said, staring fiercely at the trembling Elf. "We ain't done nothin' to him…not yet, leastways…

"It's the bite," the second orc said suddenly. "Spider poison, that is. They don't react nicely to it, Elves…last one died of it 'fore we could give 'im the antidote. Couldn't even stand proper on his own. Kept twitchin' and spittin' up before he died. Eventually spit up most' his own blood, didn't have nothin' left in the stomach to throw up."

Another thing to mention to his father, Legolas thought woozily. He had no idea what evil possessed these spiders that they could do this to an elf, but it was definitely worth making note of to Thranduil.

Lux snickered evilly. "Well, we'll just have to give 'im the antidote, eh? See to it that he doesn't die 'fore the boss has his fun wit' 'im."

_It might be kinder to leave me die rather than let them have their 'fun'_, Legolas thought darkly, though orcs were hardly known for their sensitivity or kindness.

"Stay here," ordered Lux. "Watch him while I explain the situation and all to Ugbúz…get the elf the antidote."

He shoved Legolas onto the floor and exited the tent, leaving the other orc standing over the prince, leering.

Legolas thought this might be a good time to question the orc, muddied as his brain felt. Sitting up, forcing himself not to look as though this dizzied him, he made himself look directly at the orc.

"Whaddya want, elf?" growled the orc, seeing his glance.

"Answers to a few questions," replied the elf coolly. "_Orch._"

The orc slapped him hard, jerking his head to the side. Legolas felt blood running down his chin, but he ignored it.

"I'm called Gezúk," growled Gezúk. "And I ain't answerin' none of your questions."

"Why am I here?" asked Legolas, ignoring this. Gezúk strode over and kicked the elf hard in the ribs. Legolas winced slightly, but gave no other appearance of pain.

"I said, no questions!"

"Where is my friend?" Legolas persisted. Another kick.

"What are you—" this time, his query was cut off by a large fist being closed around his throat. Legolas had the opportunity to witness a very large orc face, angry and malicious, throw itself directly into his face, so close he could smell its foul breath and hear its low hisses.

"When I say no questions—" the fist tightened, Legolas struggled to breathe "—I mean _no questions._ Else—" he tightened his fist even further. The elf's windpipe was entirely cut off; he began to black out, and in the dimness of reality he felt his stomach begin to erupt again. "You understand?"

Realizing dimly that it wouldn't do him or Aragorn, or their fathers, or brothers, or their kingdoms, or anyone, much good if he died, Legolas relented. He nodded and sighed in relief as the fist relaxed and slid entirely from his throat. Though the nausea and dizziness still lingered, at least he didn't have to worry about breathing for the time being.

"And make sure you remember it," growled Gezúk, stepping away from his prisoner. At that moment the tent flap opened, revealing Lux holding a container of some sort.

"Hold him up, Gezúk," he ordered, a wicked smile on his face. He held up a wineskin, though Legolas was sure it contained the last thing from wine. "Open up wide, elf…"

Naturally, Legolas refused. Gezúk hauled him up and held him there by the waist as Lux roughly grabbed the elf's lower jaw and forced him to drink.

The liquid was some of the foulest he'd ever tasted—something like extraordinarily sour citrus, blood and pond slime, all mixed into one. He choked, but Lux now clamped his mouth shut and tipped his head back, forcing him to either swallow or choke. Legolas chose to swallow, figuring he had a better chance of escaping if he was alive.

The stuff was awful, and burned his insides the entire way down. It felt like he was downing a glass of bloody fire. Seconds later, however, the burning stopped. His head cleared, his vision was no longer shaky, and all traces of nausea were gone. He could think properly, and was able to stand up easily on his own.

"Better now?" said Lux approvingly. He didn't wait for an answer, and instead pulled the elf roughly outside. Legolas blinked. His eyes, which had grown accustomed the dank interior of the tent, were seeing the sunlight for the first time in many hours. It was like coming out of a dark, deep tunnel.

Legolas looked around, keen eyes searching for an escape route, or any place Aragorn might be held. Lux saw him looking and grabbed the back of Legolas's long hair like a rudder, making him look straight ahead.

"We aren't that dumb, y'know," he said quietly to the elf. "Don't try anything stupid, and if you answer all boss's questions right, you may jest get outta here alive."

Legolas wanted to ask how their boss would know if he gave the right answer, but refrained from doing so in light of the fact that the orc had a long, sharp-looking dagger in his hand that was already stained crimson from…well, Legolas supposed, past victims.

Lux lead him to the largest tent in the center of the camp. He pushed the elf forward roughly inside.

"Prisoner here, as requested, fully alert and ready," he grunted to the orc already inside, the one called Ugbúz, whom Legolas recognized from yesterday. He didn't like the implications 'ready' held.

"Good," replied Ugbúz. "Wait outside now in case he causes trouble. I'll call ye if yer needed."

"Yessir, boss," answered Lux, bowing his way out of the tent.

This left Legolas alone with Ugbúz and another, smaller orc, whom Legolas assumed was a servant of some kind.

Deciding he wanted to have control of the situation as best he could, he made the choice to speak first, hoping to distract Ugbúz from whatever he was going to do.

"Why I am being held here?" he asked. The orc eyed him with disgust and punched him hard in the stomach. Legolas was sincerely glad that he no longer felt any nausea, as he was certain he would not have been able to keep his stomach in check after the blow.

"You ain't askin' the questions," Ugbúz told him in a low voice. "It's me doing that, and if you wanna get outta here alive, you better answer." He threw another fist into Legolas's face, and the elf, unable to balance because of his bound hands, stumbled slightly and fell. He was about to get up but Ugbúz came over and planted a large, muddy boot on his chest, preventing any movement. He could feel his left cheek smarting and swelling from the punch he'd just received, and figured that before long he'd have a handsome purple-black bruise to show off.

"You understand?" growled the orc. Feeling that he had most definitely lost control of the situation, Legolas was forced to give a nod, though haughty and brief it was.

"Good."

"_Lasto lalaith nin,_" Legolas added quietly. "_Gurth a chyth-in-edhil. Le fuia-im, orch."_

Ugbúz's eyes narrowed. Though he did not understand what the elf was saying, he knew from his tone that he was being mocked. He also recognized the last word, _orch_, and knew it meant _orc_. Elves only used the word in reference to something very foul. It made him angry. Motioning to his servant Grak, he held out his hand for something that Legolas could not see. Its meaning became clear several seconds later when the orc turned back to the elf, holding a cruel nine-thonged leather whip. He allowed the whip to unwind, its long straps dangling over Legolas's face tauntingly. He gave the whip a sudden flick, and Legolas hissed at the unexpected pain as it cut across his face. Ugbúz laughed, delighted that he had gotten a reaction out of his victim already.

Blood dripped into the prince's eyes and he blinked it away angrily, furious with himself for making any note of the pain. He vowed that he would not show weakness like that again.

Ugbúz removed his foot from Legolas's chest, looking happier.

"Now we do questions," he said. "Don't answer, get _this_." He slapped Legolas with the whip again to demonstrate. This time, Legolas didn't flinch or make a noise.

Ugbúz scowled, disappointed at the lack of reaction. "Fine, then. Ye'll just make it harder on yourself. Turn him on his stomach, Grak."

The other orc did so, kicking Legolas until the elf was flipped onto his stomach.

"First question: what's yer name?"

Legolas pondered whether to lie or simply remain silent. Obviously he would not tell who he actually was, but he was unsure whether it would be better to give a false name or merely give the orc no satisfaction of an answer. If he told a lie, Ugbúz would probably either not believe him or pretend not to, just to give him an excuse to use his whip. If he remained silent, Ugbúz would definitely use the whip, and then probably continue beating the elf until he gave an answer. Legolas decided it amounted to the same thing either way, and thus it didn't much matter.

"I am called Finlas," he said carefully, quickly thinking of the name of one of his father's advisors. "I am a soldier. I serve the king of Mirkwood." This, at least, was partially true, for while he was certainly not a soldier, he did serve his father. Ugbúz didn't need to know that the king was his father, though, he decided. He didn't expect the orc to believe him, and was thus surprised when his captor gave a grunt of satisfaction and accepted the answer without question.

"What's yer business in our territory?" was the next question.

Legolas felt a hot prick of anger. "It is not _your_ territory, orc," he spat. "It is part of Mirkwood, and belongs to her king. Foul creatures like yourself have little right within its borders, and even less right to call it your own."

Predictably, he was rewarded for his cheek with the downward slash of the whip onto his back. His arms were still bound behind him, getting part of the blow as well. He ignored it.

"My name is Ugbúz," the orc told him. Legolas didn't feel the need to point out that he already knew this. "You'll call me that—or 'my lord' or 'master' will do."

At this Legolas actually turned his head and spit at the orc, a look of absolute hatred on his face. "_Never," _he ground out. "I may reward you with your name, but as for 'master'—none shall ever claim that title over me again. You are a beast, undeserving of even a name, much less that title."

"Why, you little—" Ugbúz growled. He placed a foot on the back of Legolas's neck and shoved the elf's face into the ground while he brought the whip down over his shoulders.

Nine times Legolas was hit with the cruel instrument before his captor stopped. The elf gave no reaction, and Ugbúz glared furiously at him for it.

"I'm done answering your questions," Legolas said quietly. "Ask me no more, for nothing more than silence shall you receive."

"Then I suppose nothing more than a bloodied body _you_ shall receive," snarled Ugbúz, mocking his prisoner's eloquent language and still infuriated by the elf's utter lack of emotion. "I'm gonna give you one chance to answer my questions again. Ye'll regret it if yeh don't. Last chance. _What were you doin' around our land?_"

Legolas ignored him. He was ready for whatever they would throw at him. He would not give up any useful information if it cost him his life.

"Do your worst," he hissed. "I shall take it."

_Smack._

The heavy thongs landed on his back and arms again.

He kept his face blank, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

_Thwack._

"Wos' the matter with you?" demanded Ugbúz furiously. It never took his victims this long to crack. Little did he know that Legolas was nowhere near breaking.

Knowing it would further infuriate the orc, Legolas twisted his head around and smiled at him, ignoring the shooting pain, pretending he didn't feel it.

Ugbúz swore and kicked the elf's head back around. If the stupid thing wanted to smile, he could smile at the ground. "If that's the way you want it…" He motioned to Grak. "Tie him to the rack."

Legolas was heaved roughly onto his feet. The bonds on his arms were cut, though his wrists remained locked in Grak's tight grasp. He was dragged over to a large wooden frame, forced to kneel and then his upper body was stretched unceremoniously over it, his hands bound over his head to the top of the frame.

"Take his shirt off," ordered Ugbúz.

Legolas felt rough hands tearing bloody scraps of what used to be his tunic from his back. He resisted the urge to make a face as the orc's dirty, grimy nails clawed over his skin, taking no care to be gentle with the long cuts already marking his back.

He could sense Ugbúz grinning at his prisoner's helpless form and wished he could heartily slap the orc. Actually, a good knife through the stomach might be good as well, and would probably prove more efficient, but as he could do neither he settled himself with glaring at the floor from his humiliating position on the frame.

"Now we'll see what you're really made of, elf," growled the foul creature, emphasizing his words with flicks of his whip.

Legolas prepared himself mentally. He knew he could handle this, he knew he could withstand the torments of the orc. He had been hurt with instruments far worse than whips before. He knew what they felt like, and knew the pain they caused. He had been through enough to harden him against this torture.

But just because he would not crack did not mean that he did not feel fear or pain. He had been tortured before, and each time he had felt the familiar curl of fear in his stomach, the prickling nervousness that came from experience. He knew it would hurt, and the pain would be terrible. Simply because he was an Elven warrior did not mean he did not wish that the pain would go away.

So he steeled himself, bracing his mind and body for the trials they were about to be put through, and as the whip flew down and ravaged his flesh with its stinging cruelty, he silently concentrated on anything but the pain.

He had underestimated the orc's determination, however. As the whip came singing down time after time, Legolas thought, _surely it is nearly finished_, but after ten minutes of continual beating, the orc was showing no signs of letting up, and was only infuriated by the elf's complete lack of reaction.

_Smack._

_Smack._

His back was in bloody shreds now. Blood poured freely from the open wounds and mingled with the dirt and grime. He could feel a pool of his own blood forming around his knees, soaking his trousers.

_Smack._

His breath caught in his throat. He was beginning to black out. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood—anything to stay awake and emotionless.

_I will not give in. I will not give in. The darkness shall not take me_, he swore silently to himself, gritting his teeth

Ugbúz flicked the whip hard, letting it curl around Legolas's torso, before snapping it hard back up, so the elf now bore the mark around his entire body.

Legolas leaned his head against the frame and closed his eyes, willing himself to remain stoic and conscious. He would not give up. He would not let this foul creature have his way.

On and on it went, and for many minutes there was only the cruel snapping sound of the whip ripping into the prince's skin, and the wet sound it made when it came into contact with the shredded, blood-soaked flesh.

Legolas clenched his teeth as the thongs tore into his back, but suddenly the torment stopped.

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was over, when out of nowhere a pain greater than anything he'd experienced yet at the hands of his current captor exploded in his afflicted back. Fire more powerful than a furnace tore his abused backside up.

He could no longer hold his pain in. Though still not close to shattering, he let out a dry gasp of pain that shook his whole body.

What was it? He wondered weakly. What were they trying to torment him with now?

Then he smelled it on the air.

Salt.

He felt hands, rough hands, rubbing the fire into his sores. Every nerve he had screamed in protest and he moaned out loud. He could barely stand it anymore. He would still never give up, but the pain…it had to stop…

"Stop," he said suddenly, forcing himself to sound strong. "I—I cannot—"

"Shut up," snarled Ugbúz, grinning in sadistic pleasure that he had finally gotten a reaction out of the stoic elf. " 'Do your worst, I can take it', that's what you said, innit? Well, we ain't even got around to the worst yet, elf, so you better get used to it…"

And he began with the whip again.

This time, a gasp issued from the tortured being after every lash, and though Legolas's determination was still strong, his body was getting weaker. The body could not cope with what the mind insisted it must.

The fire raged.

The blood ran.

Legolas Greenleaf knew no more.


End file.
